


The Christmas Spirit

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Best Friends, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Clarence cheers Jonathan up like a good friend, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, References to Depression, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28360488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: When Jonathan is feeling down on the first Christmas without his family, Clarence is to the rescue to cheer his best friend up and give him a spark back of the Christmas spirit he was painfully mourning.------This was a gift fic for TheLostPleiad as part of the Pembroke Hospital discord server Christmas exchange.Merry Christmas!
Relationships: Clarence Crossley & Jonathan Reid
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	The Christmas Spirit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLostPleiad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLostPleiad/gifts).



“ _ O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum. _ ” Jonathan’s voice rose and fell in spurts of lines and humming, though the majority was the latter, but the effort was there which was more than he could say about all else. The notes were somber, long and mournful. The holiday season wasn’t necessarily a cherished one at the moment, as the Reid house remained quiet and empty. This was possibly the first Christmas that the house had seen not a soul to fill its halls with cheer. The garland, the candles and lights, the ribbons, they all seemed so flat and lifeless, much like Jonathan felt this evening.

With only the crackle of the fireplace to stir some simulation of the warmth that had once filled his chest; beating, thundering and vibrant all those years ago with the rush and thrill of the season. He recalled faintly what the house had once smelled like before he left, filled with the lovely scents of cider and cinnamon, delicious breads and a feast prepared in the kitchen as Avery and Emelyne worked tirelessly to get the dinner on the table in time. His father would smile as he slipped into the kitchen, ‘sneaking’ a cookie from the tray that mother had worked earlier that morning to make, allowing Jonathan the honor of decorating them. His skills had vastly improved since his childhood as steady hands dressed the gingerbread men in charming outfits and delightful expressions that would make Mary giggle before biting one of the limbs off pointedly.

Now only phantoms danced from room to room, clinging to memories so bittersweet and cold, much like himself. He was beyond shedding tears as he stared at the flickering fire in the hearth and stretched his legs out lazily in front of himself. Haphazardly draped in the armchair, he could hear the gentle chastisement in his ear of his mother’s voice reminding him to sit up straight and smooth out his shirt. Her withered fingers cradling his cheek in the faint firelight as she recalls some fading thought that still wiggled into her ailing mind. Often that Mary and her husband would be here for dinner soon, or that his father will be back soon and she was ecstatic to show him the gift she had been working so hard on for him this year. A family portrait she had painted several years ago when her hands were steadier and her fingers could hold the brush without pain or weakness.

His years at war didn’t ease his burdening sorrows, as each Christmas was spent blood soaked and miserable at the front lines. The faint ringing of  _ ‘O Tannenbaum’  _ was a sound that filled his ears one eve as one of their German translators began to sing to himself, blinded by the gas and lying alone in a cot, the silence had become too much for the man who reached for the air, clinging to some sparse hope beyond his perception. Jonathan couldn’t help but approach, taking the man’s hand in his grasp as he listened to the words, so foreign and yet so familiar to the ears as a voice rose and the tent fell silent to all else who lent an ear. Nurses and patients stared after him. 

The man later passed in his sleep, but left behind a lasting impression on Jonathan that he carried years later, often revisiting the thoughts of a man so far gone in his mind that only the nostalgia of a Christmas song would give him such peace before passing.

He knew he should rise from his seat and do something,  _ anything  _ more productive than wallowing in self pity and yet, even with the night upon him, he couldn’t bring himself to move from his spot. His gaze fixed solely on the fire as the gentle humming low in his throat faded out. His eyes slid slowly towards the clock as it chimed unpleasantly loud in the quiet, ringing in his ears to sound off that it was just just past eleven. The evening was far too late to be doing his rounds and much of his patients would be busy with their own holiday festivities, or curled up in their warm beds awaiting the coming morning. 

The shadows creeping by were an ominous mockery of a particular book that had been brought to mind, though he was far from some misguided Scrooge heralding greed with narrow minded selfish ideals on a forked tongue. The devil on his shoulder this evening was of a more personal nature that danced joyously in the absence of merriment in his life. Now if only he could drink his sorrows away at the Turtle or crack open the bottle of Brandy that was kept in the parlor cabinet for special occasions or emergency night long ponderings.

He stomped down yet another boneless attempt to rise to his feet and force himself to continue with the motions of life, when a new presence warranted an override of his woes. A firm knock on the door piqued his interest as he was drawn to his feet to greet them. He idly wondered what wandering spirit had found its wayward path to his front steps, the thought of it being a caroller was fleeting given the present circumstances though maybe one would surprise him. He didn’t often see them fluttering about at this hour.

To his immense surprise, it wasn’t carollers but Clarence that had made his way up the slippery steps, shivering in the cold night with a poorly chosen coat to shelter him from the weather. His shoulders hunched up, a scarf bundled around his ears so only the tips were peering out at the ekon as he greeted his friend with a sliver of a bemused smile slipping through.

“Clarence?” He inquired. It wasn’t too unusual for his oldest and dearest friend to find himself upon Jonathan’s doorstep, but he would have thought the man would find better company to spend Christmas Eve with than the pitiful doctor. The last year had been hard for them both as they faced numerous trials and tribulations; the war, the epidemic, Mary’s death, Venus’ betrayal which led to Jonathan revealing his true nature to his friend in a desperate attempt to convince Clarence to allow him to have Venus arrested for her attempt on his life. Which was later confirmed to have been an extensive plan as Clarence’s poor physical health substantially improved weeks later and a carefully concealed diary contained the woman’s notes on how much poison she was feeding to her ‘beloved husband’ since he returned home from the war.

Clarence had come to rely more heavily on Jonathan in the following months as they reunited as close friends, sharing their old tendencies from the years prior when their youth was thriving with mischief and rife with big aspirations and grand ideas for the future. The word  _ inseparable  _ didn’t often do them justice back then and it was showing once more like a candle lit in a dark room, growing brighter the more he focused on it, tending to it carefully until it illuminated all the memories of their childhood with pride and glee.

The shadow of that warmth had returned to the ekon as he gazed upon his friend’s hopeful smile as he shuffled in place. “Hello Jonny, thought you wouldn’t mind a bit of company tonight.”

Jonathan didn’t really know how to respond, but stepping back to hold the door open as he greeted Clarence inside, ushering him in where it was warm and relatively dark. He hadn’t thought to turn any other lights on aside from the fire in the parlor.

“A bit gloomy, ain’t it?” Clarence prompted as he removed the scarf and started to peel off his winter layers to hang up on the coat rack. Without Avery to tend to them, the home felt all the more obsolete in its usefulness. No one  _ living  _ occupied it anymore and in some small way that made it less worth keeping. A thought he had batted around on numerous occasions in the past when the night's silence became too much for grim minds to bear and he’d be dragged down a less pleasant path to struggle through like boots trapped in a mud pit, sinking him deeper and deeper into trouble.

Jonathan simply shrugged, a small hiccup of his shoulders as he trailed after Clarence as the man rubbed his hands together quickly to try and warm them. Spying the orange glow of the fire in the parlor, the two returned to its warmth as Clarence held his palms out and crouched closer with a small smile. “Much better.” Straightening up, he shuffled in place like a penguin and turned his back to the heat, letting it roll across the white shirt he wore, the dark strap of his suspenders were multicolored for the festive season with a large red ribbon pinned to the front with a faux white flower.

“What’s that from?” Jonathan bobbed his head towards the small decoration.

“Oh, Miss Charlotte Ashbury asked my aid to help in handing out food and blankets at the Night Shelter. Mr. Throgmorton assisted us and Miss Ashbury was very enthusiastic and marked all of her helpers with these brilliant little pins.” He removed the pin from his strap to hand off to Jonathan who inspected it thoughtfully.

“Very festive.” He chimed in agreement.

“Keep it.” Clarence added, earning a raised brow of confusion from the ekon.

“I couldn’t-”

“I insist. It’ll give ya a pop of cheer.” Clarence assured as he took the pin in hand and added it to the front of Jonathan’s own shirt, pinning it on the corner of his collar where it was tucked haphazardly before smoothing palms over the doctor’s broad shoulders to adjust his messy clothing with a click of his tongue. “I’m sure that would it not have been for your  _ condition,  _ you would have gladly joined us earlier this afternoon to help.”

Some days it still bewildered Jonathan as of how easily Clarence had taken the news of what he truly was, how little surprise the man had shown. The lack of fear that he had expected. Clarence had voiced his suspicions soon after, that he had noticed the traits of what made a vampire what they were and how much Jonathan had changed over the years. More so than any war could actually do to a man, though the pain remained the same and the loss felt similar in its deathlike mimicry. A man no more, he was but a corpse beyond its time.

“I- um, thank you Clarence.” Jonathan mumbled, his words a bit delayed as his thoughts scattered. He pursed his lips in contemplation, trying to think of some topic to swing between them that wouldn’t be dampened by his increasingly morose mood.

“How are you holding up?” Clarence gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, startling Jonathan from the distant stare that had slipped away from the pin to gazing just beyond that.

“I’m doing well.” Jonathan assured quickly, almost too quickly as Clarence shook his head slowly.

“It’s Christmas time and you’re sulking in a dark house, Jonny. Pardon me for being crass but that is a heap of shit.” The smaller man straightened up and gave his sleeve a tug, a sudden spark of mischief in his eyes that warned Jonathan of some plan that had burst to life. The doctor watched after his friend as he found the gramophone that his mother enjoyed listening to. After a bit of tinkering, Clarence had some swing music playing throughout the parlour which he promptly grabbed Jonathan by the arm and pulled him into a spin. The doctor was startled and confused at first as Clarence dragged him along into a quick dance that reminded him of visiting Paris during leave. As quickly as it started, his friend was dragging him out of the parlor and turning on every Christmas light on the lower floor, filling the whole place with colors and illumination that would be more fitting in preparation of a big feast.

“Even a doctor lacks the cure for the holiday gloom but I’ve the perfect medicine for you.” Clarence cheered, as Jonathan could only chuckle breathlessly and stare after his friend as they burst into the kitchen with the bustling energy of their younger years. Before he could even ask what on earth they were doing in the kitchen, Clarence was already rolling up his sleeves and opening the cupboards.

“You’re going to teach me how to make your mother’s famous cookies. I’ve been rattling you for years to teach me and gosh darn it, we’re going to do it tonight.” Clarence blurted as he stared at the ingredients in the cabinet before twisting around to peer over at Jonathan. “What do we need?”

Jonathan just stared dumbly at the man’s back before he snapped into action, the upbeat music and the whirlwind of motion seemed to be the kickstart he needed to start shaking off the proverbial gloom he had been carrying for so long. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and washed his hands at the sink as he thought the recipe over in his head.

"Brown sugar, eggs, butter, molasses and vanilla.” He directed as just the start to keep Clarence occupied while he dug through for the dishes they’d need and set the kettle on for a spot of tea. Jonathan found the measuring spoons and handed the appropriate ones to Clarence while he rummaged for the flour, baking soda and salt. A small pinch of nutmeg and cinnamon would go a long way for flavour as the ekon directed his friend on the quantities to add and in what order. Wet ingredients separated from dry ingredients in two bowls before being combined. A bit of flour may have ended up on their hands and faces in the process, but it ended up with a smile on Jonathan's as Clarence gently bumped shoulders with him as he worked the spoon determinedly in the bowl.

"Be certain to scrape the sides and the bottom of the bowl to ensure all the ingredients are mixed well." Jonathan reminded and was rewarded with the sound of Clarence's hand working determinedly to get every last bit mixed in.

"Is this how your mother taught you how to bake?" Clarence asked, tilting his head up as he passed the bowl over to Jonathan to inspect the consistency of the cookie dough. Seeming satisfied, he prepared the pan and sprinkled a bit of flour across a cutting board which they used to aid them as Jonathan showed his friend the rough size that each cookie ball must be. It was rolled in cinnamon sugar to finish it off then placed on the pan.

Clarence mimicked the measurement, using the bit of flour on his palms to ensure it didn't stick to his fingers then rolled the cookie ball in the small bowl of cinnamon sugar and set it beside Jonathan's.

"Me and Mary spent a lot of time with her in the kitchen." Jonathan started. "If she wasn't painting or reading poetry, she was making something delicious to tempt the senses for miles around." He smiled fondly with a small twinge of bittersweet sorrow. The last days he spent with her, despite how many months it had been, was still a raw and aching wound on his heart.

"She taught me everything I know about baking and I find it cathartic even if I cannot enjoy the simplistic task of eating them. Sharing it gives me just as much pleasure. Makes me still feel human." He explained as he twirled the ball of dough in his palm then placed it, cinnamon coated, on the pan. With the first pan done and ready to go into the oven, Jonathan poured Clarence a cup of tea from the hot kettle, allowing them the chance to relax for the moment.

Clarence took it gratefully and let the warmth of the cup spread over his palms as the herbal aroma rose to fill his nostrils and danced around them temptingly. "You are what you want to be Jonny, no matter what others may think. You're a good man with an earnest heart full of too much love."

Clarence paused to draw a small sip, wary of the heat as he continued. "You're still my best mate, Jonny. Even if you eat rats now."

The huff of amusement filled Jonathan's chest as he smiled at his friend. "Thank you Clarence." And he truly did mean it. Clarence had been his rock through these difficult times, his support to keep him from falling off the edge and into the seemingly endless abyss that beckoned to him. It was easy to see now, why so many ekons either died early in their unlives be it by hunters or their own hands, or lived so long that they became bitter unfeeling creatures.

Living was hard when your heart beats so slowly and the ones you love pass by so quickly. The ability to heal mortal wounds was sadly, a purely physical trait but those beneath the surface were the wounds that needed mending the most. As a doctor and as a man, he understood both but the latter could only be patched with a special type of medicine. Having a friend so close, that knows the truth, was a scarce remedy that he was both grateful for and blessed to have by his side.

Even if that meant he snuck the first molasses cookie from the tray before it had the chance to cool. Jonathan watched bemused as Clarence's fingers frantically danced around the hot morsel as he placed it in his mouth and whined through the threat of temporarily wounding his tongue with his hubris. The ekon chuckled and laid the rest to cool and prepared the other half of the dough to be baked. 

The home felt just that much more lively with Clarence by his side. The music swayed down the halls and filled the quiet corners with sentimental thoughts. The smell of cinnamon filled the air and Jonathan's heart felt that much fuller, his shoulders that much lighter, and spirits lifted as he spent Christmas Eve with his oldest and dearest friend. A gift in time that he would cherish forever.


End file.
